


The Steel Remains

by Pennytextrix



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angry Sex, Biting, Blood, Community: bsg_kink, Dark fic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennytextrix/pseuds/Pennytextrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink: Public/Angry Sex/Bulkhead (yes, that’s a kink), biting and a little blood.</p>
<p>Author’s notes: Written for the bsg_kink CIC challenge. Missing scene from Crossroads part 2, seriously angst ridden. Sorry.</p>
<p>Warnings:  Very dark. Angry/hate sex. Slight consent issues, and a vague allusion to torture on New Caprica. You decide. If it's going to offend you, don't read it and don't flame me.  Who knew that a sex in the CIC challenge would provoke this much twistedness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Steel Remains

“You voted for his acquittal, didn’t you?”

 He sees it. Witness the very moment she disappears, breaks and crumbles alone behind the wet steel glaze of presidential eyes. He cannot look away. He feels she deserves that much. He will tell her the truth. Hard as it is to take. The difficult part is that he knows it is also a lie in which he finds absolution for his own sins. Laura in her red dress flitters briefly at the edges of his mind. It is an image he has tried to forget so many times, and now, as it transforms, mutates before his very eyes, now, nothing but a bright red rag amongst the monochrome of New Caprican mud, he is sorry for ever thinking it. He wants her. Always that way: Alive and free. Without fear. Without hate. Without grief and pain. That image is nothing like the woman who stands before him now. He wants that Laura back. It frightens him to think she might never have existed at all. He thinks it is possible that he dreamed her up, an idol perfect for fantastical worship in the emptiness of space, in those months he had to make do without the reality of her. He asks himself if he wants, loves, likes even, the reality of her quite as much as the idea of Laura. 

“I hate to say it, but the defence made their case. The prosecution didn’t.”

He never imagined it could hurt her like this. He would like to have played along with her outrage. They are very good at falling into each other that way. They are beautiful in their joint desperation. He wishes he had done just that. Wishes they were alone in his cabin. Two bodies clinging to each other where the rest of the universe can have no part of them. Gods he wants to frak her senseless like that, just once more, once again. Like they always do. He has started to enjoy their mutual self destructive streak.

She does not trust herself to move. To speak. She knows the minute she does it will break her illusion of calm control. She imagines herself rent open before him, sees it between them, in front of the entire CIC. Her soul. Her heart, bloodied and beaten on the floor. Just like on New Caprica. Just like all the things that they’ve never talked about. Just like everything he suspects. She wants to hate him. Her breath, her voice sticks in her throat at the realisation that she doesn’t. She can’t quite manage to feel anything that strong right now. She hears nothing over her own empty anger. An odd kind of invisible, flailing rage.

“Gaius Baltar is a traitor. We both know that. Regardless of the outcome of this trial.”

She spits the words in a hard whisper and does something she had started to believe was unthinkable. She pushes him away. She doesn’t want him to see any of it. She walks away. He has done this to her. Not alone. But he had a large part in it. A few moments ago he told her that not guilty is not the same as innocent. Now he thinks it might be. And does it not follow that the reverse might also be true?

It is his personal betrayal that she cannot fathom, cannot begin to comprehend. She has so little of herself left and she has trusted him with it. Allowed herself to believe that he would protect her in a way that she would never consciously accept. If he had ever offered it she would have laughed at the notion she ever needed it. And she would have been right.

This is the last time. He has done this before. She has forgiven before. His coldness after New Caprica, his speech at the dance, his declaration of responsibilities. She has forgiven all of them. She has allowed herself to fall with him. Time and time again. No more. She never wanted it to feel like this. Like need and hate and want and love: a ball of knotted tangled strings. _Never again._ She tells herself. _Never again. I won’t let you break me._

Bill studies the back of her head. Her hand on her face and right before his eyes he sees her scratching desperately away in the earth of her psyche, searching for a place to hide that last little piece of herself before he can hurt her again. It breaks his heart and he knows he deserves it. Just like some part of him feels she deserves hers. Tit for tat.

“ No one's asking anyone to forget. Or to forgive. But we have to look to the future.”

 She turns and he can’t bear to see the storm raging in her. In her eyes. In her whole body. In his. Like she’s underneath his skin. She knows him too well. There is accusation there. _Yes Bill, you are. You’re asking me to forgive you. You’re asking me to forget._ He orders Gaeta to commence jump prep.

In regards to his passive aggression, she is never wrong. He meets her eyes finally. Feels the flare of the heat, the power of everything that flows between them. _Never. Never_. The defiance in her eyes feels like a dare. And she’s not backing down. The woman before him is nothing like the Laura of his fantasies. She is pure anger. Steel. Unyielding. It’s sexy as hell. Now he knows. The reality of his love is more powerful than fantasy. More powerful than any previous lust blind desperation. It is consuming. It is destructive and unpleasant. He is hard at the thought of breaking her.

 He takes her by the elbow. “Come with me.” Laura wrenches her arm out of his grasp.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me. We’re done.” She turns slowly and walks away making for the exit to the lower level. He can’t let her go. Bill follows her. Before she knows what’s happening there’s a strong arm around her waist forcing her into the bulkhead of the stairwell. A hand covering her mouth. Her heart pounds in her chest. She knows it’s him.

 It’s feral. She feels alive. He is hard against her hip and for a split second she forgets everything and rocks into him. Whimpering her approval into his hand. “Shh. There are people everywhere. Don’t make a sound.” He punctuates his words with sharp nips to her ear. He continues to rub himself against her, and any other time she would think this was funny: She’s never had quiet sex in her life. His hand is replaced by his mouth, forceful and rough. Sucking and biting against her own. Bill pins her hard against the wall, a wrist in each hand. She struggles against him and panics a little when she finds that she really can’t move. His touch against her is all wrong and she realises that this is not quite a game to him. He means this. He means to frighten her. She bites down hard into his lip. Doesn’t stop until she tastes blood and he pulls away with a muffled curse. He releases his grip on her wrists, massaging away the pain he knows he has caused.

 He leans over her still. His forehead pressed against hers. The taste of blood in his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It is barely a whisper against her skin. She smiles knowing as she reaches to stroke his crumpled face. “Yes you did.” She turns his head examines the damage to his lip. It is bruised and still bleeding slightly. She is not sorry.

Laura moves in on him. Lowering her mouth to his. So close and not touching. Her tongue flicks out, tasting the hard metal of his blood as she cups his cock through his dress greys and squeezes hard. “Don’t lie to me.” Arousal coils tight and dull in her abdomen, and she hates herself for it. Hates that she’s going to do this and enjoy it.

 Her breathing is hard and stilted as she presses her back flat against the wall and undoes her pants. She takes Bill’s hands in hers and guides one hand into her panties, pushing his fingers into her. His other hand she lays over her cancerous breast with intent. She looks directly into his eyes as she squeezes his hand around her breast, before letting go and pressing a single finger to her lips in the sign for silence. She wants him to remember her cancer exists. Wants him to know that this is not about forgetting. She wants him to know that she is using this to hurt him too.

“So do it. Do it now.”

She mouths the words. Nothing more is said as he takes his hands away. Laura turns away from him pushing her pants down and sliding her panties to the side, just enough. She presents her cunt to him wiggling her arse just a little for good measure as she braces herself against the bulkhead. She can feel the wetness of her folds as the cold recycled air of the CIC, hits her exposed pussy and she is more than a little ashamed at how much the thought of where they are turns her on.

She gasps a little too loudly as she feels him pushing into her. He does not stop. Does not wait for her to adjust. She is not quite ready and all she can feel is the sharp sting and the thick slide of him, the quick hard slap of his balls against her as he drives home, over and over. She can hear the desperate staccato vibration of his voice against her neck. “Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.” Laura has no intention of doing so - but the sadness of it - His sadness combined with her strength - has always been a turn on and she whimpers. Bill’s hand covers her mouth, as the other seeks out her clit alternating between tight flicks, and grinding his palm into her. The angle is all wrong and she feels too restrained by the trousers around her thighs and really she is amazed that they haven’t been caught yet.

Part of her wants to be. Wants to see just how much noise they can make and get away with. She is close. So close. Laura thinks of the men and women just a few feet away. She thinks about how they must surely be able to hear everything. The idea of it pushes her over the edge. Bill’s mantra has changed back to a murmured version of his normal “frak yeahs” and muffled curses. His last few thrusts, as he comes, are violent and crush her to the bulkhead. Laura doesn’t care.

 

***

 

“Feel better?” She looks back over her shoulder at him as she zips up her pants and rights her shirt and jacket. She turns and presses her whole body into him. Her hands laced in the thick greying hair at the back of his head. She presses her mouth to his cheek. Trailing kisses across his neck to his ear. It is almost affectionate. “ I don’t forgive you. You can’t break me, Bill. Not this time. I won’t let you.”

 He watches her enter the lower level of the CIC and there’s nothing he can do but follow her.

“Jump co-ordinates have been distributed, sir. All fleet ships show green for jump formation Delta.” Gaeta reports. Bill does not look at her. They must appear together in this endeavour, at least. He feels the distance between them as a near corporeal presence. Together they are alone. Apart they are whole. And they are lost. Only the steel remains.


End file.
